


Crooked Souls Trying To Stay Up Straight

by kyanve



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Abuse References, Hurt/Comfort, Keith as one of the generals AU, Keitor Exchange, M/M, dumb traumatized boys figuring out basic affection, with two idiots who are both prone to pretending to be fine DAMNIT I AM FINE YOU SAW NOTHING
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 11:43:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14852105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyanve/pseuds/kyanve
Summary: Keitor exchange pinch-hit for glove23!AU where Keith never passed for human, got taken off of Earth, and Lotor ended up yoinking him as one of the Generals.After Keith's badly injured in one of Zarkon's "reminders" to Lotor, he decides to call Lotor's bluff on the Prince trying to stay aloof and detached.





	Crooked Souls Trying To Stay Up Straight

Even if getting recruited by Lotor was better than anywhere else he could’ve been in the Empire, it was still within the Empire, and Zarkon periodically decided to remind Lotor that “exile” didn’t mean he was free.

This time had been the game of “requesting” one of Lotor’s “pets” for the arena. It was a trap either way; they had no way of knowing what Zarkon had planned and it was usually something close to a murder attempt in and of itself, but refusal would probably be immediate death at best. 

This was one of the times it meant letting Haggar make a show of weapons testing.

Keith wasn’t sure what the thing had originally been and it didn’t really matter; the Druids had scoured out anything that might’ve been a mind and patched pieces of living flesh to metal and machinery. He’d managed to bring it down, barely, but not before he had been bounced off walls, had part of his armor compressed, and a gash straight through it in one place that had bled nastily. 

He’d barely managed to keep his feet to get back to Lotor, and that was force of will to avoid giving a potential opportunity to the Druids.

He knew he’d gotten hauled to the medic, with Zethrid offering to find whatever was left of “the witch’s toy” and make sure it couldn’t be salvaged. Everyone had been shut out of the room except Lotor, and every time he’d found consciousness again, the Prince had been hovering, looming over the shoulders of the medics and questioning everything. 

Once Keith was up, moving, and able to get around on his own again, Lotor vanished, holing up in his rooms. He did it often enough that it wasn't unusual exactly, but Keith had been noticing some patterns to him suddenly getting grouchily antisocial and vanishing. It'd been grating on him for a while now, and this was the last straw for it. 

He got a few wary, strange looks when he made for Lotor's rooms, still a bit of a wreck and with a noticeable limp even if his clothes covered most of the braces and the worst of the bruises and lacerations. He had a feeling why none of the others were doing the same; it was the way the Empire worked, that someone in authority acting irritable and withdrawing meant it was outright dangerous to approach - and while Lotor hadn't been like any of the pureblooded Galra commanders, nobody wanted to be the one to find where the lines were on what habits he might still have or where the boundaries were on him being "better". 

Some of it was also probably the eternal feeling of waiting for the other shoe, that sooner or later it would change and go away and nothing "better" could last. The Empire had a way of destroying anything that didn't play by its rules, whether by outright annihilating it or by forcing it to bend until it eventually fit in; Lotor was Zarkon's own son, and Zarkon had been trying to make him bend for a _very_ long time. 

Keith wasn't the only one who remembered something besides the Empire from when he was a child, he’d just been the one who’d had it the longest; he clung to it stubbornly as proof that there could be something else, to what he'd learned from his mother even if that hadn't gone the way she'd wanted. 

If he was right, then it was worth crossing the line and not leaving Lotor to hide out and brood. If he was wrong, well, he was used to losing things and surviving at this point, and he'd know where he stood and who he could trust a little better. 

He had to hotwire the door to get in, but Lotor had encouraged them learning to get around locks where they could - it was useful when they were getting into places they weren't supposed to be on his behalf.

Lotor was standing at the observation 'window' that covered the far wall with his back to the door when it opened; his first reaction was wheeling around in surprise, activating his sword, then deactivating it and staring at Keith with a couple blinks of alarm and confusion.

He was right.

"What are you even - did you just _circumvent the locks_ on _my chambers?_ " There was the ruffled stiffening in an attempt to regain composure he'd been expecting. He looked back over his shoulder at the door as it closed, and gave an unrepentant shrug, ignoring how his bad arm was stiff and didn’t quite manage the gesture right with the restrictive splint; every second that passed with Lotor puffing up like that only made him more convinced that the worst the prince would do was posture in an attempt to keep up appearances. 

Keith's lack of concern made the bewildered exasperation worse; with the way the Empire worked, either there hadn't been anyone willing to actually try and test how far Lotor's goodwill towards his people extended, or it'd been a long enough time for it to no longer register as a possibility. 

"What do you think you're doing?!" The imperious tone would be intimidating if Lotor wasn't still visibly grasping at straws for his composure, voice going a little pitchy on the last couple words. Lotor was incredibly clever and controlled until a threat caught him off guard enough, and Keith knew the special kind of internal conflict when a situation should have been a threat enough to mash on panic instincts but was nonthreatening enough for them to spin wheels with nothing to react to. 

Maybe there was a little bit of vengeful glee for how often Lotor had invoked Keith’s versions of that reaction when the prince had first managed to talk his way into getting Keith handed over to him. 

"You know, you could just say you're worried." 

Lotor blinked and stared at him, mouth open, more unsure how to react. "I - ... what?"

Keith tried to fold his arms; it turned into something more like awkwardly propping the wrist of his bad arm up on his elbow in an attempt at looking natural. "You were hovering the whole time I was recovering from that and terrorizing the medic."

Lotor closed his mouth and looked away, trying to shove his dignity back into place. "I've invested a great deal of effort into you." 

He gave Lotor a moment, then rolled his eyes, utterly unimpressed. "Look, I get that there's good reasons for that whole act with the rest of the Empire, but I stopped buying your 'this is a mutually beneficial arrangement and it makes more sense to take care of your resources' thing a few decaphoebs ago. Nobody's here listening in. You can stop with the aloof mastermind act and just admit you were worried." 

There was a moment in balance where Lotor's eyes narrowed with the beginning edges of a flinch, then a more tense sort of distant, wary stiffness. "Do you have any idea what you're asking?"

Keith made eye contact and held it, staring straight back. "For you to stop being The Prince for at least a few minutes and just be a person like the rest of us?" 

There was a longer silence, Lotor staring at him tense and shaded in skittish suspicion, as if trying to find a trap that had to be there and failing to find it. Keith had to wonder just how many times Lotor had dropped his guard and had it end horribly one way or another; after how much Lotor had done to get him away from the Druids and give him a life again, it made Keith want to find everything responsible, set it on fire, and then shove it out an airlock.

Zarkon included, as soon as he found a way to do it. 

"Do you really think I'd turn on you after everything?" 

"That's not what I'm afraid of," Lotor snapped, then stiffened and turned back to the observation window with a huff. "You have no reason to be here; go back to the normal common areas." 

Zarkon at the top of the list; Keith now had the added question of how many times Zarkon had killed people Lotor had gotten attached to just as a show of control, nevermind punishing Lotor for not being the kind of vicious obedient tool he seemed to want. 

Keith growled and closed a few feet of the distance. "I'm not going away." 

There was a quiet, rasping uncomfortable sound before Lotor wheeled around, the prince stifling some kind of reflexive vocalization. "You _should_ be. Do you even realize what you just _barely_ survived?" 

He stared straight back again, focused and unwavering. "Zarkon making a big show of being able to hurt whatever you _might_ care about." 

Lotor opened his mouth, then stopped, squinting at Keith with whatever he'd been about to say foundering. "Then why are you doing - all of this?"

"Because I don't care about what Zarkon wants, and I don't follow his orders. I never have." If anything, he preferred doing the opposite of what Zarkon wanted whenever possible, even if getting away with things sometimes required going through the motions to keep up appearances. "And I don't forget when people decide to care about me." 

"I -," Lotor started, frustrated and almost puffing back into posturing; Keith straightened himself, not caring that his eye level was somewhere a little above Lotor's collarbone. "You -," Lotor tried again, slipping into just exasperation. "You do realize that the only reason any of you are still alive is that I am able to pass you off as 'potentially useful tools', and if there is any slip away from that, he _will_ kill you."

"Lotor, I think he knows. It's the whole point of those 'requests'. He probably only let you claim any of us because it'd give him something he could use for leverage later." It was something Keith had come to terms with the first time Zarkon had done it after he'd entered into Lotor's service. 

"Then why are you so determined to get _closer_?" It seemed like it honestly wasn't computing at all for Lotor. "I knew what he was going to do when I laid claim to you; you're being subjected to - all of _that_ because of me." 

 

Keith's head tilted sideways in an almost flop, and he shifted his weight, already feeling stiff and a few little jabs of pain where he wasn’t supposed to be putting weight on his hips or one knee. "Yeah, and before that I was getting chewed on by the Druids because Zarkon was pissed at my mom. I don't think either of you magically gained mind control powers to make him a petty genocidal torturing asshole, so I'm gonna put all the blame on him for doing it." He paused. "Knowing he's doing it to hurt _you_ just makes me more pissed about it." 

"I'm not the one he's -" Lotor stopped, trailing off, and stared at him. "...Your logic is a marvel and an enigma for the ages." 

"Look, you remember where I was when you talked him into 'making something useful out of me'. The way I see it, you're the only reason I'm _not_ still back there, and sticking with you is my best shot at getting to do something about it." It was pragmatic, but part of what made everything else so solid was that it fit neatly with the more pragmatic side of what he wanted…and made it easier to justify angling at the less pragmatic side of what he wanted. "And I'm not going to just forget how much you've been doing that you don't _have_ to do, even if you do try to explain it away." 

Lotor was still, the stiff turning awkward and uncertain. "You mean the bare bloody minimum where it can be scraped together." 

Keith made a stifled noise of frustration. "If you hadn't stepped in when you did, I'd be _lucky_ if I were dead now!" It was one of the known grim facts of the situation that every abomination that came out of the Druid's workspace had probably once been someone that had irritated Zarkon or was connected to someone who'd annoyed him. "And I know you know what it looks like for half-breeds in the Empire." 

Lotor almost tried to say something, expression sharp like he'd found a flaw in the argument, and Keith already knew what it was; Keith did remember his life before everything had gone to Hell, when he'd been younger and still with the little group of pirates and rebels his mother had hidden him with in lieu of being able to leave him on his father's homeworld.

"You weren't involved in that ship getting caught." 

Lotor's shoulder's tensed in a half-sulk at Keith cutting him off. "I fail to see how dragging you into this exile is a 'good' outcome to you when you've lived with people that weren't under Zarkon's control." He paused, almost turning back to the observation window. "I could have simply turned you loose, given you a way to join some other rebel group like the one you'd been with." 

"And I wouldn't let you do that and take the fall for it when Zarkon realized I'd gotten loose on your watch." He took another few steps, hobbling a little worse for how long he’d been standing, until he was just outside of arm's reach for Lotor. "If I wanted to leave, I could've done it any time you've slipped us out on errands. I'm not going anywhere." 

Lotor raised an eyebrow, looking down at him with a gesture at the old station they'd made a lair out of. "Are you really so sure this is the best you could do for yourself?"

Keith took another step closer, well into the personal space bubble Lotor usually kept. "Yes." 

Lotor leaned back slightly, but stayed put, giving Keith an odd look. "I hadn't expected someone raised by rebels to be so comfortable as a part of the Empire." 

"Mom handled being second in command to _Rannveig_ , I think I can handle following someone that's actually on my side." He reached forward to poke Lotor in the chest, not caring that it didn't have much impact through the breastplate of Lotor's light armor. 

"I'm a little concerned by your faith in me." Sarcasm wasn't brooding and going defensive, at least.

"So you're saying you didn't expect me to stick with you willingly, but you talked Haggar into handing me over to you instead of turning me into one of her weapons anyway?" 

Lotor leaned back, trying to keep composure in spite of sensing a trap. "Yes?"

"You know that only proves my point that you _do_ care, right?" Keith cocked his head, waiting to see if Lotor managed a comeback.

The best he came up with was a flustered half-step back, trying to scrabble for his composure again and failing. "But - I - that's besides the point!" He straightened, trying to play it off. "Should you even be on your feet for this long yet?"

He wasn't wrong - 'feeling like shit' after recovering from something like that was routine at this point, even if Keith was used to being stubborn and ignoring it as much as possible, much to the eternal frustration of the one frazzled medic Lotor had slipped out of a prison camp to keep on staff. He knew from experience that he could probably go a bit longer trying to wear down Lotor's protests about his own worth before he actually started flagging significantly, even if he wasn’t sure how far he’d get out of Lotor’s quarters before the hobbling turned into not being able to stand without using walls and other objects for support.

On the other hand, Lotor had given him a perfectly good opening and he wasn't about to refuse it. "Probably not," he admitted with a shrug, and stopped willpowering through his leg’s threats of collapsing, right into Lotor. The prince caught him with a noise of frustrated alarm and exasperation, eyes narrowed as Keith leaned into it half-limp with no shame whatsoever. 

"Now you're just taking advantage." And yet, Lotor was still holding him.

"M-hm." Keith shifted, but only so it was slightly less awkard with a little less potential to end up on the floor if Lotor shifted his weight wrong. "You were getting after me about pushing myself with injuries."

"This is not what I meant and you know it." After another moment to confirm that Keith was unrepentant and not going to go back to supporting his own weight, Lotor sighed, moving to pick Keith up and carry him. 

Lotor did not head out of his quarters, instead retreating back to deposit Keith on his bed, getting a confused shift as Keith almost propped himself up on his worse-injured arm and a questioning noise. It was a bit more of him being in Lotor's space than he'd expected the prince to accept right then. 

"I am _not_ carrying you to the medic like this." Lotor was still ruffled, and Keith was having a hard time reading it as anything but a victory even if he knew part of it was Lotor trying to avoid anyone else seeing or hearing any of it. 

Getting through to Lotor was plenty of progress, he could work on getting Lotor to accept that he had People, plural, once he was sure Lotor wasn't going to try to forget this ever happened or play it off and go back to keeping up his posturing towards Keith even in private. He accepted that, draping back with a bit of leaning to avoid putting weight on the arm that'd gotten caught in the thing's mouth. 

For all that Lotor was technically "exiled", Zarkon was not stupid enough to completely take eyes off of him; there were ships that passed by periodically, monitoring them to make sure they didn't try to leave and that they didn't have enough resources to do anything. There wasn't any effort made to ensure Lotor had basic supplies, even, although somewhere in boundary-testing before they'd even become a factor Lotor had determined that he could get away with laying claim to some basics and occasionally find some small-time local commander or administrator he could intimidate or bargain with, and as long as it didn't involve anything too unusual or potentially dangerous, Zarkon would ignore it. 

The little station they were living in had been long abandoned when Lotor had moved in and gotten it rebuilt enough to be functional. At this point it was comfortably livable, but luxuries were few and far between; even Lotor's quarters were mostly sparse besides his collections of oddities and things he was studying, except for a small hoard of blankets and pillows that had mutated over the years into making a decent sized nest of the bed. Keith's room wasn't uncomfortable, but he was suddenly tempted to see how long he could use the excuse to stay here while he was recovering. 

That train of thought was distracted by the furrowed frown that was stuck on Lotor's face. He froze, trying to gauge if he'd tested boundaries a little too far all at once - even if Lotor was genuinely worried about him, with what Lotor had lived with his entire life, there were a lot of other ingrained habits and twitches where Keith was still unsure if he might trip over some twitch somewhere that ran counter to what was apparently Lotor's own instincts left to his own devices. 

"...How bad is everything still? I know there's limits to what the medic can accomplish here..." There was actual worry there, more open than the tone he'd taken around the medic even, and it clicked that some of Lotor's sharper tones and more imperious attitude was probably a way to mask over reactions without dropping his guard. There were very few among half-breeds and the occasional rescued criminal or slave that would ask too many questions of someone with any hypothetical rank who was taking a command tone and sounded irritable, and among the military and ranking Galra they had to deal with, it was a way to push back before the challenges even started.

Keith had gotten good at puffing up and being as intimidating as he could as a way to flag "not an easy target, don't try it" himself, but he was pretty sure he'd make things much worse if he ever tried the misdirects Lotor had to be doing on a regular basis. 

"Eh, pretty lousy compared to last time, but not the worst I've had." 

Lotor went flat and unimpressed, all too aware of how low a bar Keith had just set. "You’ve had the Druids taking frustrations out on you." 

Keith coughed, looking away. Lotor cleared his throat, eyes narrowing. "How bad is it." 

Keith shrank into the blankets a little; Lotor's frown deepened with a more suspicious stare. Keith sighed, and fumbled with the top clasp of his loose shirt, finally giving up and working it one-handed instead of fighting with stiff fingers on one hand. 

There were jointed mesh frames for supporting and restricting broken bones around most of his arm, the angry bruises, welts, and scraped off skin where it had tried to bite through his armor visible through the mesh. He was a mess of bruises and scrapes down to his waist, battered from getting thrown around the arena. Lotor winced unhappily, leaning in closer over the bed. He raised a hand towards the splinted arm, then paused. 

"May I?" 

Keith paused awkwardly; even back before, with the rebels, if someone was checking over injuries and he was holding still for it, they usually didn't bother asking. "Yeah?" He lifted the arm, still ignoring the ache whenever it moved. 

Lotor put a hand just below his elbow to support it, running fingers down the mesh brace with an unhappy wilt, shaking his head quietly at the rest of the broad marks and scrapes. He scanned down, tilting his head at the way Keith was holding his right leg in the cushions. "How is your leg?"

Keith started to shrug and got a warning look in return. "Nothing's broken, there's just some twisted joints and sprains." He hoped the mess of further bruises and battering would just be understood. Lotor hadn't moved, waiting anyway. "...They said the hip and knee were wrenched, and the hip was almost dislocated. I've got braces and wraps for that too." 

It didn't budge the worry, but did aid an element of thousand-yard stare. "Hence the looser slacks." 

Keith half-nodded with a faint noise conceding the point; hiding the wraps and supports was a large part of the motive. 

Lotor had a suspicious pause. "Are you even supposed to be putting weight on that?" 

Keith went very still, and skipped answering in favor of adjusting the blankets. 

Lotor's thousand yard stare returned with a vengeance. "Well," he started with a thoughtful pause. "I am not carrying you back to your room." 

It didn't really surprise Keith; Lotor was still trying to avoid anyone else seeing anything that'd be Suspicious, and carrying him would be noticed. He'd made it a longer distance worse injured just to get back to them; it wouldn't be that bad getting back to one of the common areas or his own room.

"You are staying there. I'll bring meals." 

Keith went still, trying to process what had just happened and re-orient, tilting his head at Lotor in an attempt to verify that he'd heard the prince right. Lotor just looked ruffled again, almost offended. 

"I am _not_ going to have you walking on that, and I know better than to expect you to use some kind of other support without tossing it away as soon as you think nobody's looking. You are staying put here, where I can keep an eye on you." 

It was edging close to the version of Lotor's Voice Of Command that came up with Keith and the others when there was nobody else potentially around and there was being particularly stupid or going out of their way to be obnoxious, the one that had an undertone of 'are you all five or something _really_ '. 

"Uh." Keith stared, still trying to process what'd happened. "Okay." 

Lotor hesitated, staring at Keith as if unconvinced. Keith was beginning to realize that he hadn't fully thought through the result of cornering Lotor into admitting he'd been worried and did, in fact, care about his people. He shrank back into the blankets, shrugging his tunic-shirt the rest of the way off to push it off the bed with his bad hand, and tugged one of the blankets over in a show of Staying Put. 

Lotor still waited a second to be sure before he sighed. "I'm going to go check on food before settling in for the night. You stay there." 

Keith did shift a little more, getting comfortable and then peering around the room. He'd figured out that Lotor did care about his people more than he let on a while ago, mostly just by watching the contrast between how Lotor did things and the posturing he did most of the time. He was pretty sure all of the others had figured out something, at least that Lotor was not fond of the tendency towards pointless cruelty so many of the higher ranks of the Empire glorified, and that Lotor had some empathy for how other half-Galra were treated, enough to be doing what he could to improve their lot. A couple of them at least seemed to suspect that Lotor had some personal attachment, but he wasn't sure how well. 

Getting more confident that Lotor cared about people, even if he wasn't allowed to show it, hadn't really given him a clue how Lotor would handle things when he was cornered on it in a space where there was less risk of consequences for letting his act lapse. He was pretty sure some of the fussing was Lotor trying to distract Keith from cornering him any further, but the worry was definitely genuine, and it was surreal having Lotor - the same person who was the first to acknowledge that toughing through things, taking on worse than they could handle, and avoiding showing weakness were survival necessities - be that _delicate_ about dealing with his injuries and that careful of him. 

It was awkward, he wasn't sure how he felt, but it did make him even more aware that he was in Lotor's pile of hoarded blankets and pillows, in Lotor's room, with Lotor having made the Command Decision to take over monitoring Keith's recovery. 

The bedroom itself was sparse, a personal terminal that could be disconnected from the old station's network next to the bed and a couple old relics on hooks on the walls; a shield next to the door where he half-recognized the design as similar to some of the ruins they'd gone poking in finding things for his research, a spear on the far wall that he didn't recognize at all. He could see some of the shelves in the other room through the open door; the main room of Lotor's quarters was more cluttered, with devices that were mostly non-Galran in pieces on worktables and relics and pieces salvaged from ruins, black markets, and trophy collections everywhere. 

Most of them usually didn't see more than glimpses of it; Narti had the advantage, since Lotor would allow Kova into his rooms, but she tended to not talk about it, usually shutting down questions that she'd only share what she'd seen if the person asking had been allowed in by Lotor anyway. 

Lotor hadn't talked about his projects much, so most of what Keith had before this was the general outline of what Lotor would send them out after or take interest in and occasional moments where Lotor would start narrating what a ruin was or the history of what they were investigating; he'd known the prince had a fascination with the various dead civilizations that littered the universe in Zarkon's wake, always tinged with bitter awareness that it was all gone because of his father. 

The more Keith saw, the more he wondered how Lotor could exist while being that closely related to Zarkon. 

When Lotor came back, he actually stopped in the main room, and Keith noticed him scanning for signs that Keith had slipped out or gotten into anything in his absence; it was only long enough for a cursory check before he confirmed that Keith was where he'd left him.

Dinner went by awkwardly, with Keith trying to balance being half-starved still and avoiding making a mess on anything, and Lotor flickering between half-hovering and starting as if he'd forgotten he wasn't alone in the room. Lotor had pulled up a couple of screens going over something, and while he had a few uncomfortable glances when Keith was too obvious about trying to see what it was, Keith couldn't make heads or tails of any of it - it was a wall of math and diagrams and schematics with three-quarters of it not even in Galran or any language he knew. 

After a while, the platters had been set aside, and Lotor paused and dismissed his screens, ducking into the other room. Keith assumed it was something to do with his work, and Lotor did come back with a tray that had one of the half-dismantled old devices on it.

And a few distinctly more modern and very recognizable jars that had Keith almost going into a sulk.

"You seem to have _misplaced_ these, purely accidentally, I'm sure." Between the dripping sarcasm and the flat look, it was clear Lotor knew there was nothing accidental about it. 

One of them was something meant for the scrapes, cuts, and scattered superficial damage, supposedly to help it heal faster, the other was a painkiller. "That one burns and itches, and the other one makes everything go numb enough that it's hard to do anything."

"Making things numb is the _point_ of a painkiller, and you aren't supposed to be doing anything that would require that much movement anyway." Lotor shot him a warning look, and he sulked anyway. 

"It's not like I can get that crap everywhere it's supposed to be, anyway," he grumbled, and then felt a chill that he'd said the wrong thing to get out of it from the way Lotor paused and studied him. 

"Fine. I'll handle it." 

Keith opened his mouth to argue and very quickly realized it was a fight he was going to lose. He closed his mouth, shrinking down while Lotor shifted with the jars to deal with it.

After a very awkward pause, Keith twisted around to flop out flat in the blankets on his stomach, leaving the welts and skinned scrapes on his back accessible with a flustered grump. He wasn't sure if he should've expected calling Lotor's bluff to lead to Lotor hovering this much, or if this really was past what would've been rational to expect to be dealing with. 

He still had the tiny cynical suspicion that part of it was Lotor trying to head him off before he could start asking questions or prodding more at some of Lotor's more transparent nits and patterns. 

There was an awkward pause at first, and Keith did catch Lotor's less composed pause as he seemed to realize what he'd gotten himself into without thinking things through entirely; Keith managed to stifle the snort, barely, although he caught a withering look as Lotor realized he'd been spotted in his less guarded moment. 

Keith settled into the pillow, looking forward to spare Lotor's self-consciousness. 

He fumbled at it almost as badly as Keith had trying to reach some of it; it was becoming increasingly obvious that close contact with other people was not something Lotor was used to. It wasn't much of a surprise, with what he'd grown up around and how standoffish he tried to be for the sake of avoiding Zarkon's attention. Lotor was careful about everything, however, trying to keep the loose ointment from catching in thin fur too much with occasional quiet displeased noises at the spread of injury. 

It stung, smelled unpleasant, and hurt more before the numbing started kicking in, but after a bit of work Keith wasn't getting more than a sense of pressure from it, and he was drifting dangerously close to just dozing off where he was. 

That got jarred out when Lotor stopped. "I suppose you'd rather tend to everything you can reach." 

Keith's first instinct was the urge to be almost petulant that he'd stopped and decline, which led to jarring more out of his half-drowsy haze pinning down any visible fluster with a faint, awkward squeak. He didn't want to know but it was reflex to glance back over his shoulder; Lotor just had an eyebrow raised, somewhere in between dry bemusement and flat-footed uncertainty. 

On the one hand, Lotor had definitely noticed. On the other hand, Lotor seemed like he didn't know what to make of it any more than Keith did, although he kind of wanted to catch the stray thought of finding some way to get Lotor's hands on him when it didn't involve putting pressure on healing wounds and shove it in a locked crate buried somewhere far away. 

Instead, he was settling for holding very still.

"You're going to need to move one way or another."

He flinched with another squeak, tried to swallow the fluster, and used his good arm to lever up enough to turn back over, sitting up in the bed. At least being sharply more aware of his leg complaining as he shifted the injured joints after letting them rest, the moment he almost put weight on his bad arm, and just how many other bruises and scrapes he had that weren't numbed out distracted him from the sudden reminder of hormones. 

Lotor cleared his throat, his own focus returned to concern. "Are you going to be alright?"

Keith started to straighten, debated if it was worth the effort, and gave up with a weak "Eh." 

Concern more than trumped awkward. "If it would be uncomfortable with that splint, I could take care of the rest." He paused, looking down and away, self-conscious again. "It's not like there is a great deal pressing at the moment." 

Keith considered it, then shrank in, almost mumbling. "...Sure."

He sank back into the nest to let Lotor handle it, and dozed off somewhere before the prince had finished.

***********************

Once the routine tending was done, there wasn't much else Lotor could do, however restlessly he still wanted to hover. Keith was asleep and resting, something he sorely needed and something it was incredibly hard to get Keith doing when he was injured - it was like any capacity he had for being comfortably lazy and appreciating downtime vanished when it was enforced and necessary. 

Not that Lotor could fault him for being incredibly uncomfortable with being vulnerable and potentially unable to take care of himself if things went wrong. 

After a brief bit of indecision reminding himself a few times that Keith needed the sleep and there was little else that would help but time, Lotor sighed and brought up his terminal, trying to focus on his research and a few in-progress schematics. That struggle lasted for almost a varga before he gave up on it, his ability to concentrate having skipped off for parts unknown.

He was already feeling a pang of regret, like he was making a horrible mistake; it was a looming constant every time he'd laid claim to some half-Galra derelict forsaken by the Empire. It was less miserable, having others around, even if a lot of their chatter and banter went on around him while he kept some personal space bubble and limits on his engagement, but sooner or later it always ended the same way. 

Sometimes he wasn't even sure he was doing any favors by interfering - yes, he could give some insulation from the prejudices and abuses of much of the Imperial hierarchy, but the trade-off was Zarkon's personal attention, and eventually either Zarkon had a mood and took it out on anyone Lotor had around him, or someone got unlucky during one of Zarkon's little dominance displays. 

As much as Keith had bounced back to his normal confidence and spite-fueled existence, they all knew this last bout had been a close call; his current state was _after_ the medics had spent several quintants stitching back together the worst of it and doing what they could to speed along healing. 

He hadn't expected Zarkon to agree to let him have Keith when he'd taken an interest in the battered mess the Druids had been taking frustrations out on, but it hadn't taken long to put together what Zarkon was actually doing. It wasn't any kind of moment of indulgence; it was daring him to go along with Keith's rebellious stubbornness and give Zarkon a reason to crack down on him, and Zarkon gaining another bit of leverage, something else he could threaten if Lotor toed the line or destroy if he felt vindictive. 

It wasn't that he didn't _want_ to have people he could trust and relax around, to have close companions; it was knowing what always happened to them whenever he let himself think that maybe, this time, he actually could let himself accept it. 

Keith was relaxed and dead to the world asleep.

As frustrating as it was, his bluff had been called, and he didn't _want_ to turn into what his father wanted - to start snapping back at the victims of everything as if it were their fault somehow, even if he wanted to shake Keith until he understood exactly what he was really asking, where it would go if things continued on the way they were for much longer. Keith had the frustrating habit of not seeming to care if he got hurt sometimes, and as endearing as the loyalty was, Lotor wasn't sure how to get him to grow a functioning survival instinct. 

He couldn't throw Keith off or get any distance without crossing lines he refused to; Not Being His Father was one of the few things he had to cling to. 

All he could do now was try to do the best he could to keep things from getting worse and keep working on his schematics and his own plans; if he could get it working before anything catastrophic happened or someone's luck ran out, if he could secure something that could get them out from under Zarkon's claws or give him a real shot at challenging Zarkon - 

Even with the progress he had, the calculations that it should be working within a few decaphoebs, it still felt impossible, even if it _had_ to work; even if keeping the countdown timer in his head to when he'd have enough to start moving in earnest was all he had to keep going on some days. 

He wasn't going to be able to make much progress tonight, not with the way Keith had pulled all of his worried nerves to the surface and disturbed his carefully maintained efforts at burying his feelings enough to ignore them, but he did need _something_ to distract himself; he sifted through some of the old archives he'd salvaged for bits of old literature, fairy tales and legends from civilizations that no longer existed.

It always ached for a while at first, going through the fragments and knowing how much was gone, but after a while it settled back into just curling up with little windows into something else, half-aware of breathing warmth curled up nearby. 

He didn't mean to fall asleep, only to lean back and rest for a moment; he was tired, but he'd thought he was too restless to actually fall asleep. 

His dreams were fitful fragments, jumbles of nightmares and the kind of happier dreams that hurt to wake up from, nothing solid enough to remember.

When he did wake up, it was muzzy, slow, and tangled in blankets. Keith was still asleep, and had shifted around to be draped over him, the splint on one arm the only thing keeping him from clinging completely. The way he'd sprawled and curled around Lotor almost seemed like it shouldn't have worked with an intact, solid skeleton, but Keith had somehow managed anyway, and trying to shift a little to get loose wasn't working at all. 

Trying to slip a free hand to move Keith's arm didn't work either; it didn't wake Keith up - probably a good thing, he needed all the sleep he could get while he was healing - it just resulted in an irritable faint growl-grumble and Keith somehow managing to wrap around him more. 

Lotor sighed and resigned himself to it; there wasn't a way to get Keith detached without enough struggle to dislodge him that he'd wake up and Lotor would be potentially risking accidentally clawmarks if Keith startled enough.

If he set aside the long-term worries, it wasn't _bad_ at all, really; he was a little unsure about what to do with the close contact, but it was comfortable. If he let himself drift, it was the kind of content comfortable that got unsettling after a few minutes, as the nagging sense that something had to go wrong started kicking in. It was something he was used to that would probably turn out to be right eventually, but for now he wanted to ignore it as long as possible. 

There was a faint rattling purr as Keith shifted to cuddle into him. He stayed still and rested his hand on Keith's head, idly petting his hair. 

After a while, Keith stirred with a more uncomfortable murmur at the angle he'd wedged his bad arm at; Lotor had made some effort to detangle it, but it'd been almost impossible. After a couple more ticks, he started showing signs of being awake, eyes blinking open and squinting at the dim lights from the bedside console. 

It was visible when it sank in on Keith that he was clinging to Lotor, as he froze uncertainly, glancing up at Lotor, then processing that Lotor's hand was on his head, the freeze turning more awkward and confused. 

Which meant Keith knew, which meant Lotor was not going to be able to pretend the hairpetting hadn't happened.

He paused, looked aside, and then went on as if nothing happened, hairpetting and all.

Keith blinked, and then somehow managed to shift to have his bad arm less pinned without detangling from Lotor at all, face firmly mashed into Lotor's neck with a more audible rattly purr. 

"You realize this is an awful idea." 

The purr got interrupted by a frustrated snort. "You were okay with it a minute ago." He paused. "And haven't stopped."

"Yes, well." He was still petting Keith's hair. 

"It's about the thing with Zarkon, isn't it." 

Lotor just made a quiet, irritable huff. Keith really did have no survival instinct, being that casual about it. It was refreshing to have someone who had been through all of that and was still that intent on refusing to be intimidated - it did make it feel that much more possible to actually accomplish something - but Keith was fearless about it in a way that often brushed past carelessness. 

"You know why he does that, right?" Keith did shift, enough to prop up partway on his good elbow to make eye contact. 

"Because he's reminding me that he has control. Because I'm not the bloodthirsty loyal sycophant he wanted, and he's taking that out on me. Because I remind him of things he'd rather forget or destroy." It was a very tired narration as he let his hand drop into the blankets. 

"Because he wants to keep you too afraid and off-balance to figure out what _he's_ afraid of, and to make it harder for you to get away and do something to stop him." Keith had gone graven serious.

Lotor raised an eyebrow; Keith was _young_ , and had been with the rebels longer than anyone else there had been with anything like caretakers or a support structure that wasn't controlled by the Empire. He almost wanted to believe that it meant Keith had noticed something they hadn't, but there was still that cynical little voice saying that it just meant he didn't really know what he was talking about. He humored Keith, at least for the moment. "And what, exactly, is he afraid of, besides reminders of his past?" 

"People figuring out what happens if enough of them, or the right ones, stop being afraid of him." 

"If only it were that simple." Lotor rolled his eyes, and Keith levered up with a hiss at his momentarily forgotten bad arm; Lotor moved fast to steady him, hands on his shoulders. 

It didn't deter Keith at all. "If he was that all-powerful, there wouldn't _be_ rebels, or worlds that the Empire hasn't touched yet, or spies getting up as high as my mother was in his own chain of command! He's powerful, but he's one man, he can't do much himself to something that isn't in his reach - he's relying on his generals and commanders to keep the Empire together and do things for him. You know more than anybody else who's trying to stop him, and you've got to have some kind of power he's been keeping you from learning about - you could actually do some damage, maybe even find a way to kill him for good, and he _knows_ it." If anything, Keith was trying to lean in closer, close enough that it was impossible to avoid looking at him. " _We_ could actually do some damage." 

Lotor blinked, mouth working without anything managing to come out. It was his own fault in a way - the entire untouchable leader routine meant trying to inspire enough confidence in his people that they would follow whether they knew what he was doing or not - but it was sobering and a little frightening to have someone that was that _close_ now, who'd latched on and brushed past the distance he'd kept and called his bluffs, showing that much faith in him - 

Especially when he knew where that had led anyone else he'd tried to get close to in the past. "I'm flattered, but I think you are overestimating me." 

He was another possession to Zarkon; that wasn't something Zarkon was going to be afraid of, even if Zarkon was just petty enough to throw fits about Lotor not doing exactly what he wanted. 

"You're selling _yourself_ short." Keith wrinkled his nose. "You said it yourself, there's entire planets and sectors where he'll exact 'consequences' for pissing him off centuries later on generations that don't know what he's angry about because he just quit paying attention and _forgot_ for that long. He's forgotten entire border outposts for thousands of years! And he's not setting up a prison and forgetting _you_ exist." 

The awful part was that his logic was sound; some of Lotor's own best finds trying to research Altea were things Zarkon had been sloppy about destroying and then just never gone back to, forgotten unless something reminded him. 

Keith seemed to catch the hesitation in his pause. 

“Zarkon’s had ten thousand years, if he _could_ really eradicate any resistance, I wouldn't be here - most of his Empire came from rallying the bigots and assholes to his banner and convincing the rest it wasn't worth the fight." 

His mother and the "family" she'd left him with were insurgents, rebels and pirates - people Zarkon wanted dead. 

"You make that sound so simple." He could've pointed out how much military force and weapons technology combined with the amount of access and influence the Galra had back when the Empire began contributed, but he suspected it would've been patronizing.

"You could carve something out and start rallying people, yourself." 

Keith was deadly serious, and Lotor closed his eyes, mouth quirking as he tried not to laugh. "Like providing an alternative to their stranglehold on infrastructure?" 

There were a couple beats where Keith just blinked widely, parsing that through; Lotor wasn't going to go into _detail_ on his plans, not when there was still the risk of Druids deciding to grab the others and poke in their heads, and maybe it was more than he should've said on that note as it was, but the reaction was worth it. 

"I do have _some_ plans." He sounded more confident than he was, but success was the only real option he had; he doubted he'd get more than one chance. 

Keith was caught completely off guard, staring for another few ticks, before it turned into slightly broken laughter; he gave up on trying to support the way he'd been propped up, leaving Lotor trying to decide if he should keep it up himself or just let Keith go back to being flopped over him. "Of course you're already ahead of me." 

He couldn't just let go, not when he'd noticed Keith flinching whenever the injured arm was at a bad angle or got jarred. 

"Really, while I was quite honest in my intent to salvage as much history as we can save from Zarkon, did you think there _weren't_ other motives to my research?" He was still stuck supporting Keith, and Keith didn't seem to care; maybe if he waited a little longer to see if Keith would take over keeping from getting dropped, since it would jar the arm and some of the other injuries even if it was only a few inches...

"I mean, I figured that, I just wasn't sure how big you were thinking." Not only was Keith not moving to support himself, Keith had wrapped his good arm around Lotor's in a way that would've made it hard to _not_ drop him if Lotor hadn't been significantly stronger. 

Lotor finally gave up, carefully lowering Keith the short distance before letting go. Keith's response was to immediately go back to being an octopus as much as he could when he still had to favor one arm, which was entirely uncalled for now that he was conscious and didn't have "clinging to things in his sleep" as an excuse. He gave Keith a baffled, dim look; Keith was still snickering and ...

Actually snuggling in closer. 

He was going to have to ask the medic what, exactly, was in some of the painkiller salves and exactly how much of an effect it had.

"Well, you were the one who started talking insurrection." He didn't think he wanted to try to move Keith; it seemed like it probably should've been what he was doing, but he was finding the idea of putting distance between them uncomfortable and hard to seriously entertain. 

"So as long as we don't get caught, right?" He didn't move from where he was, but Keith was definitely grinning. 

"That would be the idea, yes." Lotor was starting to wonder what he'd just _done_ to get this kind of reaction. 

"You know, I'm glad you stepped in and grabbed me when you did." 

Lotor was getting hugged. It wasn't just the octopus routine. He had even less of an idea what to do with it, besides awkwardly draping an arm over Keith. 

Keith was starting to faintly purr again, and Lotor was even more sure there was something he was supposed to be doing and that he had no idea what that was, at all. 

Keith shifted again, not quite propping up on his good arm, and the next thing Lotor knew, Keith was leaning up to kiss him, quick and testing. 

Lotor flustered and flailed, pushing Keith away turning into awkwardly holding him up again as Lotor remembered that he was injured and not aggravating that was higher priority than reacting to a situation that was turning into a tangled, undecipherable mess in his head. "You do realize you're legally - _property_?"

Keith had stiffened in a freeze of alarm, then tilted his head, squinting at Lotor as he tried to figure out what he problem was; Lotor had sounded like he expected Keith to be bothered by it. "...You've only ever used it as a fast way to get other Galra to back off and leave us alone?" 

Lotor was stuck with that vague worry about his relative position and his nearly palpable distaste with the tendency of high-ranking Galra to take advantage of their positions to get whatever they wanted, clonking off Keith's nonchalance and lack of concern for the whole issue. 

"I mean, when we're not dealing with any of them long enough I kinda forget that it's a thing, since the only other time I've heard you bring it up was when you were complaining about how much you hated it and how when you got actual authority you were going to give us enough actual rank to tell them to screw off ourselves..." 

"Yes, but. It's still - even then I'd be a superior officer, it's a little unfair to - pursue relations with someone that could be putting themselves at risk for saying no." He was stuttering through part of it, awkward and half unsure why he was arguing. 

"I started it," Keith deadpanned, raising an eyebrow. "If you're not comfortable with it or don't want to, I can stop?" 

Lotor stammered, tripping over words and suddenly having a hard time responding coherently. "No I - that's not what I - are you sure you know what - is this really what you want?" 

Keith was still unsure, but a little more bemused at the stammering, and there was a smug edge starting to show up that was both incredibly compelling and slightly terrifying. 

"Lotor. Really. What do you think I would do if I _didn't_ want to be here and you tried to stop me?" 

Lotor paused, not needing long to see where it was going. Keith was capable of "Keep mouth shut and follow my lead and _don't start anything_ " around Galra officers, and had .... something .... resembling an "obedient act" when they needed to avoid drawing attention, but the best Keith managed was stilted and sullen - and if there was any signal that he didn't have to toe the line, he got as violent as Zethrid. 

"Probably try to rip my throat out with your teeth." 

Keith grinned, easily showing off his own fangs. "Trust me, if I don't want something, I'll let you know." He leaned in closer. "So what do _you_ want?"

Lotor blinked, opened his mouth, and was stuck that way for a few seconds before he closed it again. He wasn't sure when that was a question he'd been seriously asked, at least about anything more major than dinner preferences; giving an indication of what he wanted around Zarkon or most of the Galra hierarchy was dangerous, and most of his people tended to just expect him to be in charge and treat him pursuing things as a foregone conclusion. He was good enough at it, when it came to things related to his research, his goals, and trying to carve out something he could keep going as long as possible or find ways to hide things from his father. 

"I." 

Anything he really wanted had a short life expectancy; what he really wanted was never very realistic in more than shreds and scraps, salvaged and struggled for and even then mostly unattainable. There was a resignation that had just grown to be an Accepted Part Of Life, that it wasn't worth even trying too hard or considering some things because of what would inevitably happen sooner or later. 

"I'm not sure-"

He didn't want Keith to go away, he _wanted_ to keep that warmth, but he already knew where it would go. 

Keith squinted at him, frowning and levering on his good arm enough to give more space. 

Damnit, even if he knew where it would go eventually, he was suddenly starting to understand how Keith seemed to be an endless well of spite-fueled defiance, and right now, he wanted to forget that the entire Empire existed for a while, and have something he wanted no matter what Zarkon would do if or when he found out. 

He didn't bother seriously trying to spit it out verbally, instead opting for brushing Keith's good arm out from under him with just enough other intervention to make sure Keith's injured arm didn't get pinned or jarred. He wrapped around Keith as best he could, burying his face in Keith's hair with a frustrated almost-growl. 

There was a tiny awkward squawk and a tense freeze for a moment before Keith realized what he was doing and returned to being an octopus. 

Lotor had his eyes shut, curling up and clinging to Keith until the knotted-throat feeling that something was going to go horribly wrong any second started to creep into the background, whether because time was passing without anything awful happening or just because it wore itself out. Either way, he was slowly managing something to be less desperate in the clinging, relaxing into the contact and reminding himself to breathe. 

Keith wasn't budging, and had started making occasional quiet little soothing noises, although it sank in somewhere as Lotor was starting to relax that there was a similar shift in the way Keith had wrapped around him - less tense and insistent. 

It was getting easier, but it didn't entirely stop some of the nagging senses of something being off that were tugging the back of his head; it was surreal, like something that would vanish and go back to normal if anything jarred him. 

"....Why?"

Keith made a quiet questioning noise, leaning into Lotor's hand when he shifted to go back to petting Keith's hair. 

"Why this? Why me?"

Keith sighed, and Lotor wasn't sure what the pause was, but he did get the funny creeping suspicion he was at risk of getting chewed on. "Because you're worth it. You know that, right?" 

He was finding it oddly difficult to answer. Keith grumbled something unintelligible and tried to curl around him more, almost possessively and clearly intent on not going anywhere.


End file.
